Chapter 26:

[(The solar of Prince Daeron's chambers in the Red Keep is bathed in golden afternoon light as Cersei Lannister sits by the window, watching their sons Baelon and Maekar play with wooden swords. The door swings open and Daeron enters, his face grim. The two-year-old Maekar immediately toddles toward him while Baelon, nearly three, continues his mock battle with an imaginary foe.)

Cersei: (without looking up from her wine) "You have that look. The one you get when your brother's done something especially stupid."

Daeron: (scooping up Maekar) "You could say that. Father just informed me that if Rhaegar doesn't return within two weeks, I'm to be named Prince of Dragonstone."

(Cersei's head snaps up, her green eyes gleaming.)

Cersei: "Well. That's the first good news I've heard since Harrenhal."

Daeron: (grimacing) "It's not good news, Cersei. It means Rhaegar's likely run off with Lyanna Stark, Robert's ready to start a war, and the entire realm is about to— Baelon, stop hitting the furniture."

(The toddler pauses mid-swing, scowling exactly like his mother before resuming his assault on a defenseless chair leg.)

Cersei: (smirking) "He takes after my side."

Daeron: (ignoring this) "Father's sent Gwayne Hightower after Rhaegar. If he's found, he's to be dragged back—Lyanna with him, if she's there."

Cersei: (sipping her wine) "And if he's not?"

Daeron: (lowering his voice) "Then I become heir. Daemon gets Summerhall. And we prepare for Robert to march on King's Landing."

(Cersei's smile turns razor-sharp.)

Cersei: "Your father has dragons. Let Robert march. He'll learn what happens to stags who challenge lions... or dragons."

Daeron: (sharply) "No. You will do nothing reckless. This isn't some game, Cersei. If war comes—"

Cersei: (standing abruptly) "If war comes, your father will burn Robert's forces to ash. And then you'll sit the Iron Throne, with our son as your heir."

(Baelon, sensing tension, abandons his sword to cling to Cersei's skirts. Daeron exhales, shifting Maekar to his other hip.)

Daeron: "It shouldn't happen like this. Rhaegar's an idiot, but he's still my brother."

Cersei: (coldly) "A brother who abandoned his pregnant wife to chase a wolf girl. You'd be a better king, and you know it."

(Outside, the distant roar of Tiamat shakes the windows. Daeron glances toward the sound, his jaw tightening.)

Daeron: "Just... promise me you won't do anything until the two weeks are up. No schemes. No whispers. Let Gwayne find Rhaegar first."

Cersei: (smiling sweetly) "Of course, my prince."

(They both know she's lying. But as Maekar babbles nonsense and Baelon resumes his swordplay, the game is already in motion—and the pieces are falling into place.) ]

[(The windswept courtyard of Dragonstone Castle overlooks the churning Blackwater Bay. Queen Rhaella, her pregnant belly prominent beneath her flowing gown, sits on a stone bench watching Princess Rhaenys chase butterflies. Nearby, Princess Elia Martell—equally pregnant—rubs her swollen abdomen while her brother Oberyn sharpens a dagger with unnecessary force. The salty air carries tension thicker than the coastal fog.)

Rhaella: (softly) "She has your smile, Elia."

Elia: (watching Rhaenys) "And her father's stubbornness. Seven help us."

Oberyn: (snorting) "Yes, let's speak of her father. The man who humiliated you before half the realm then vanished with some Northern girl."

Elia: (sharply) "Enough, Oberyn."

Rhaella: (diplomatic) "Aegon has given Rhaegar two weeks to return. If he doesn't..."

Oberyn: (blade glinting) "Then your husband will strip him of Dragonstone and name Daeron heir. We know."

Elia: (placing a protective hand on her belly) "And what of this child? If it's a son, will he be cast aside too?"

(Rhaenys toddles over, clutching a wilting flower. Elia smooths her daughter's wild curls as Rhaella considers her answer carefully.)

Rhaella: "Aegon won't punish an unborn babe. But the succession..."

Oberyn: (mocking) "Ah yes, the precious succession. Tell me, Your Grace—if Rhaegar returns with Lyanna Stark and some bastard, will your husband welcome them with open arms?"

Rhaella: (eyes flashing) "You know he won't."

Elia: (wearily) "It doesn't matter. I am Rhaegar's wife. His children by me are legitimate. That Northern girl—"

Oberyn: "—is likely being defiled as we speak."

(Elia flinches. Rhaella's hand tightens around her goblet.)

Rhaella: "Careful, Prince Oberyn. That's my son you're speaking of."

Oberyn: (smirking) "And my sister's honor he's spat upon."

(A tense silence falls. Rhaenys, sensing the mood, climbs into Elia's lap. The distant cry of a dragon echoes across the island.)

Elia: (suddenly) "If... if Rhaegar doesn't return, will you let me take Rhaenys to Dorne?"

Rhaella: (surprised) "You'd abandon Dragonstone?"

Elia: (bitter laugh) "What is there for me here? A husband who prefers wolf girls? A court that pities me?"

Oberyn: (softer now) "Sunspear would welcome you. The children would be safe."

(Rhaella studies them both—the fiery Dornish prince and the betrayed but unbent princess. Somewhere, Tiamat screeches.)

Rhaella: "If it comes to that... I'll speak to Aegon. But for now—"

(A servant rushes in, bowing hastily.)

Servant: "Your Graces! A raven from King's Landing—Ser Gwayne's party has found tracks heading north!"

Oberyn: (standing abruptly) "Toward the Riverlands?"

Servant: "Aye, my prince. And... they report seeing three white cloaks with them."

(Elia pales. Rhaella closes her eyes briefly. Even little Rhaenys goes still.)

Rhaella: (quietly) "So it's true then."

Oberyn: (sheathing his dagger with finality) "Oh, it's worse than true. Your son has stolen a lord's betrothed with Kingsguard as accomplices."

(As the servant retreats, the crashing waves seem to grow louder. The game has changed—and the pieces are moving toward war.) ]

[(The Red Keep's courtyard basks in the golden afternoon light as King Aegon VI strokes Fenrir's massive snout, the dragon rumbling contentedly. Nearby, Princes Daeron and Daemon stand at a respectful distance—Daeron stiff-backed and serious, Daemon with his usual cocky grin. The air smells of smoke and dragon musk.)

Aegon VI: (scratching under Fenrir's jaw) "You two realize what happens if Rhaegar doesn't return in time?"

Daeron: (grimacing) "I become heir. Daemon gets Summerhall. And Robert likely declares war."

Daemon: (grinning) "And I finally get control of the Crown Merchant Guild's treasury. I've been waiting to raise port taxes on Braavos."

Aegon VI: (giving him a flat look) "No. You'll run it exactly as I have. But first—" (Fenrir huffs a warm breath) "—we have another matter. The dragon eggs."

Daeron: (blinking) "What of them?"

Aegon VI: "All five remain unhatched. If war comes, I won't risk them being seized or destroyed. You'll retrieve them—Daeron, the ones at Dragonstone. Daemon, Summerhall's. Bring them here to the Red Keep."

Daemon: (raising a brow) "You think Robert would dare attack a palace with dragon eggs?"

Aegon VI: (dryly) "I think Robert would smash them with his hammer just to spite us."

(Fenrir growls low in his throat, as if offended by the idea.)

Daeron: (nodding) "I'll leave at once. But... Elia is still at Dragonstone. Should I—?"

Aegon VI: "Leave her be. She's safer there than here if Oberyn starts poisoning people."

Daemon: (grinning) "Speaking of—should I also retrieve Ashara from Dorne? Or is she allowed to keep stabbing anyone who insults her honor?"

Aegon VI: (pinching the bridge of his nose) "Just get the eggs, Daemon."

Daemon: (mock-saluting) "As my king commands."

(As they turn to leave, Fenrir suddenly lifts his head, nostrils flaring. A distant roar echoes—Tiamat, answering her mate from Dragonstone. The sound sends a shiver through the courtyard.)

[(The Red Keep's courtyard remains bathed in golden light as King Aegon VI continues tending to Fenrir, the massive dragon purring like an overgrown cat as his king scratches beneath his scales. Tywin Lannister approaches with his usual measured stride, his face unreadable as always.)

Tywin: (coolly) "Your Grace, we should discuss the succession plans—should Rhaegar fail to return."

Aegon VI: (not looking up from Fenrir) "You mean how Daeron inherits Dragonstone and your grandson Baelon becomes his heir?"

Tywin: (raising a brow) "Precisely. The realm must see a smooth transition—especially with Robert Baratheon breathing down our necks."

Aegon VI: (finally meeting Tywin's gaze) "And you will do nothing to... expedite that transition, Tywin. No schemes. No accidents. Am I clear?"

Tywin: (almost amused) "You wound me, Your Grace. I am nothing if not loyal to the Crown."

Aegon VI: (snorting) "You're loyal to your legacy. Just keep your knives sheathed until the two weeks are up."

(Before Tywin can respond, Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard rushes into the courtyard, his white cloak fluttering behind him.)

Ser Oswell: (bowing hastily) "Your Grace! Word from the coast—Commander Gwayne has been spotted on a ship returning to King's Landing!"

Aegon VI: (straightening) "And Rhaegar?"

Ser Oswell: "With him, Your Grace. But…" (hesitating) "Lyanna Stark is not among them."

(Tywin's eyes gleam with cold calculation. Fenrir, sensing his rider's tension, lets out a low, warning growl.)

Aegon VI: (grim) "So. My son returns alone. No stolen Stark girl. No explanations."

Tywin: (dryly) "This should be an interesting family reunion."

Aegon VI: (to Ser Oswell) "Ready the throne room. And summon Rhaella, Daeron, and Daemon. If Rhaegar thinks he can slink back without answers, he's in for a rude awakening."

(Fenrir exhales a plume of smoke, as if in agreement. Somewhere in the distance, the bells of King's Landing begin to toll—marking the return of a prince, and the beginning of a reckoning.) ]